


1933

by GrayCanKindaWriteStuff



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: 1930's AU, I'M SORRY IT CAME TO ME AND I JUST H A D TO WRITE IT, THIS AU IS PRETTY MUCH BASED ON THE CONNECTION BETWEEN JOHN DILLINGER AND JAKE DILLINGER, anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:04:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayCanKindaWriteStuff/pseuds/GrayCanKindaWriteStuff
Summary: This AU is exactly what it sounds like- It's an AU set in 1933. All the characters are at least 20, because I figured it wouldn't make much sense to have teenagers acting like real adults here. Jeremy is a private investigator, Chloe runs a speakeasy, Brooke owns a failing general store, Jenna is the first female reporter at the local paper, and... you'll have to read the rest to find out!





	1. Exposition

**Author's Note:**

> OH BOY THIS AU HAS BEEN BOUNCING AROUND MY HEAD NON STOP FOR DAYS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

Jeremiah Heere sighed, boredly spinning around in his new swivel chair. He had recently saved up all his paychecks and pocket change to buy it from Lohst’s General a few weeks ago, and he’d be damned before he let all that money go to waste- especially in a time when nobody had much spending cash to begin with. But screw it, he needed this chair to focus on his work! 

 

“Work. Yes. I should be doing that. Probably.” He muttered to himself, turning back to the tiny journal in which he had written all his notes from that week. In order to support himself and his recently jobless father, fired from his job as a store clerk at the town Bamberger’s when they downsized, the youthful twenty year old Heere had gotten a job as a “Dick” (or in today’s slang, a private investigator) with the Trenton branch of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. 

 

But there were thousands of young hopeful men working for Pinkerton- how was he going to set himself apart from them and climb the metaphoric corporate ladder? Actually make real money and not just scrape by? 

 

This is where Jeremiah- Jeremy to his few friends-  thought himself to be the luckiest man in all of New Jersey. You see, he was lucky enough to live in the same small Trenton suburb that the infamous Jacob J. Dillinger, nephew of John H. Dillinger, the feared bank robber terrorizing the midwest, resided. 

 

All he needed was to catch Dillinger (Jacob, not John) doing something illegal and arrest him, and he’d be famous. He’d be known as the man who caught a dangerous member of the Dillinger gang (and a real Dillinger too, to boot!) and arrested him. He’d get a promotion, and then he’d get an actual office, and then… and maybe then his father would get out of bed again. Maybe his father would get dressed again. Maybe his father would get over this mysterious illness that had come over him since the loss of his job. 

 

Notes. That’s what was in the journal. Dozens of notes and notes and notes in tiny handwriting that filled all but the last three pages from his days spent stalking Jacob, just waiting for him to break the law. Obsessed? No, Jeremy wasn’t obsessed!  _ Definitely not!  _ He was just… paying close attention. Right, yes, just… watching. Waiting. Searching for that one clue that meant that Jacob Dillinger was a dirty criminal just like his uncle.  Which he was, of course- he had to be! He was a Dillinger, for god’s sake! It was in his blood! 

 

But as of right now, all Jacob seemed to do was spend a more-than-healthy amount of time with his short accomplice at Valentine’s Bar. Well, it wasn’t a bar anymore thanks to prohibition, but in his time spent there observing Jacob, he now had reason to suspect that the “sweet” miss Chloe Valentine was secretly a devious barmaid running an illegal speakeasy. Jeremy had always known she wasn’t the kind young maiden she pretended to be- she was a complete asshole unless you had money to buy her beer and her friendship. 

 

Jeremy flipped once more through the journal, looking for clues that just weren’t there. The second he found one, he kept telling himself, he would sell it to his good pal and the first girl to work for the Trenton Times, Jennifer Rolan. Jennifer always had a way to sell the stories to people. Jeremy knew that the second she got her hands on a scoop as big as the yet-to-happen Dillinger arrest, by morning it would be all over the front page. Everyone would know. He’d be a star. And that’s all that he wanted, wasn’t it? He wanted to be known. He wanted to be famous. He wanted to be cool. 

 

Of course, in between stalking Jacob, he did keep an eye on other members of his town, to make sure nobody else was breaking the law. It was his job, after all. For instance, nearly three days ago the traveling duo of  “Mell and Canigula” blew into town. Nobody had seen them or spoken to them since they first got there, but in a small suburb of almost five hundred, people knew and noticed every change and every difference. How’d he know their names if they hadn’t interacted with the townsfolk? Well, it was painted in large, carnival-style letters on their wagon, leading people to believe that they were only in town to sell cheap trinkets or snake oil to them, as people did every year. Jeremy agreed with the townsfolk in their thoughts that Mell and Canigula - whoever they were- were most likely just simply a pair of barkers. 

 

Jeremy tapped the end of his fountain pen to his chin. How could he find out what Jacob was up to if all Jacob did was drink (probably- he still hadn’t figured out of Chloe was  _ really _ running a speakeasy yet) with his friend, whatever his name was? Jeremy knew it was something Polish. Ga….Go...Goranski, yes, Goranski, that was it! 

 

Jeremy stood up suddenly, leaving his swivel chair spinning as if it was possessed. He dropped his pen onto his desk and said aloud to no one in particular, “I’m an idiot! Talk to his pal, get the whole, true story! Why hadn’t I thought of that before!” Barely taking enough time to grab his coat, he rushed out of his small, cramped workspace. He needed to talk to Richard Goranski- and as soon as possible, too. 

 

This was going to fix his career for life. 


	2. A Meeting In Hooverville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy and Rich discuss matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having way too much fun writing this

Jeremy knocked on the door of a small wooden hovel on the outskirts of town. He believed this part of town was what the rich people over in Trenton called a “Hooverville.”  
“Hello? Anyone home?” He said, called through a knothole in the door.

All of a sudden, a squinting brown eye looked through the hole without warning. Taken aback, Jeremy stumbled back a few steps and nearly tripped over a pile of firewood on the porch. Waving his arms and legs wildly, he regained his balance as the door creaked open, revealing a short man with a broken glass bottle in his hand. Richard Goranski.

“Get outta here before I gut you from neck to kidney, cop!” Rich yelled, brandishing the bottle in Jeremy’s face.

Jeremy put up his hands in surrender. “I'm not a cop! I'm not a cop!” His voice broke as he pleaded for his life.

“You sure? New clothes, fancy coat… Coming around this part of town, you've gotta be a cop.” Rich squinted his eyes, suspicious of Jeremy.

“Well, I'm, um,” Jeremy wasn't sure whether the truth was better or worse in this situation. Not knowing what else to say, he just told the truth. “I'm… I’m actually just a Pinkerton agent.” He closed his eyes, waiting for the swipe of a bottle to expose his intestines to the sun.

Much to his surprise, it never came. He peeked through one half-closed eye and saw that Rich had lowered the bottle.

“Wait, you're not going to kill me?” Jeremy bravely asked.

“Not unless you want me to.” Rich gripped the bottle tightly, but then held open the door for Jeremy to come inside.

Jeremy hesitated, not sure whether or not it was a trap.

“Are you coming inside, or did you just come here to annoy me?” Rich gestured to the door with his head.

“I'm- I’m coming! Yeah!” He walked past Rich and into the shack. It wasn't exactly a nice place, or a homey place, but it looked lived-in. There was a double bed that had definitely seen its share of nuptials, a fireplace with some sort of stew or soup boiling stop it, a few chairs strewn about, and… Not much else.

“Not quite what you're used to, is it, city boy?” Rich saw him staring and nodded.

“...Yeah.” Jeremy returned the nod.

Rich pulled up two rickety old chairs in front of the fireplace and sat down in one of them. He patted the seat next to him for Jeremy to sit down too.

“What did you come here to ask me for? And how much are you willing to pay me?” Rich asked, cutting to the chase.

“Well. Uh, I need information.” Jeremy said, sitting down.

“We've got the what now. And the how?”

“I can give you… Ten dollars.” Jeremy said without thinking. Ten whole dollars? That was a crazy sum. He didn't even have ten dollars on him.

Rich thought about that for a second. “Fine. Deal.”

Jeremy knew he'd be eating canned beans for a week, but it'd be worth it once he got that promotion. “Tell me about Jacob Dillinger.”

Rich unconsciously glanced back at the double bed, and then quickly looked back at Jeremy. “Jacob? Jacob’s off-limits.”

Damn. “Would you do it for fifteen dollars?” Jeremy blurted out.

“I'll do ANYTHING for fifteen dollars.” Rich said.

Jeremy was tempted to make a crude joke, but thought better of it seeing the bottle still within grabbing reach of Rich’s hand. “So. Jacob Dillinger.”

Rich sighed and closed his eyes. “Jacob Dillinger’s one of my- no, scratch that, he IS my best friend. And believe me when I tell you he's nothing like his family. He's a good person. The best I've ever known.”

“So he's really not doing anything illegal?” Damn, there goes his article- and his promotion.

“No… He's not. But you know who is?” Rich leaned in closer.

“What? Tell me!” Jeremy pulled his notebook out of his coat pocket and prepared to write down what Rich said next.

“So, you know that shoe store in town?” Rich said, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Uh, yeah, what about it?” Jeremy said, furiously scribbling down everything said word-for-word.

“It's a front.”

“A front? For what?”

“I can't say. But all I'm telling you is… Get down there. And bring your notebook.”

“Rich, what's down there?”

“Ask for Squip. Tell them Richard Goranski sent you.”

“Wha- Squip? What kind of name is Squip?”

“I think you need to leave now. Fifteen dollars, please.”

“You're being very confusing right now.”

With every sentence said, Rich was obviously getting more and more agitated. “Give me the money.”

“Rich-”

Rich grabbed the bottle again. “You've overstayed your welcome. Give me the money and leave or I'll kill you for real this time.”

Jeremy got to his feet and write Rich a check for fifteen dollars. Rich took it and examined it.

“This better not bounce. I know where you live.” Rich said, holding it up to the light.

Jeremy nodded, heading towards the door. Shoe store, eh? He was going to see what was going on there if it killed him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you're all really excited to see what on earth a pre-computer Squip looks like, huh?


	3. Smaller On The Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy enters the shoe shop- what could be lurking here? (Or Heere?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY I HAVENT BEEN POSTING IVE BEEN ON A NEW TYPE OF MEDS AND THEY MAKE ME SO TIRED IM SO SORRY GAHHH

The shoe store had only been there for three months, but in all that time Jeremy couldn't think of a single time when he'd seen a soul in there. In the months to come, when he looked back at the colossal mistakes he had made, he traced them all back to that stupid, perpetually-empty shoe store. And the funny thing was, the only sensation Jeremy really remembered vividly about what the shoe store looked like was how underwhelming it was. Unlike many things from pop culture that aren't exactly relevant to the thirties (Coughcough the TARDIS, Hermione Granger’s bag, NASA coughcough), the shoe store was somehow much smaller on the inside than it looked outside.

 

Nevertheless, that did not stop Jeremy from bravely entering the store, walking with the practiced, light swagger usually attributed to the badass sheriff of terrible western movies. He stopped at a display advertising women’s heels, stopped to look around, and immediately tripped over his own boots trying to stop the stupid swagger.

 

Heels went flying everywhere, and as Jeremy scrambled around trying to clean them up, an employee of the store walked out of the storeroom, looking completely unfazed with anything going on at the moment.

 

“Hello there, sir.” The employee said, a glazed look in their eyes. They sounded extremely bored- not just with their job, but with life in general. Besides the boredom, there was no expression in their voice, and they looked like a marionette being pulled along by a shoddy puppeteer. “Can I help you?”

 

“Um, yes, hi-” Jeremy paused, not remembering what Rich had told him to say. “Um, I want to see your squids?”

 

Even though Jeremy had just said the craziest thing probably ever said in that small shoe shop, the employee remained still motionless. “Sir, this is a shoe store.” They explained apathetically.

 

“Not squid.” Jeremy slapped his forehead out of frustration. “I want to see the Squip. Richard Goranski sent me.” He said, getting it right on only his second try.

 

All of a sudden, the employee’s expression changed completely. “Richard Goranski?"

 

“The one and only.” Jeremy said, chuckling nervously.

 

“Follow me, please, sir. I'm so sorry- I can't believe I didn't recognize you sooner!” They led him past the displays, past the “Employees Only Beyond This Point” sign, past everything you could see from the front of the store. They pulled him through a small gray door, and all of a sudden Jeremy could see why the store looked so small from the front- the store itself was indeed a front.

 

Enter the Squip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to write much more you guys rip me


	4. The Squip Is A Dangerous Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy meets the Squip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have done SO MUCH research for this goddamned AU ok

The back of the store was lavishly furnished, with velvet furniture strewn about like the way cheap wooden furniture was at Richard’s. There was a full bar, with what looked like real alcohol- Jeremy made a mental note to come back and confiscate it at a later date- and beautiful, contemporary paintings on the walls.

Jeremy looked around, mouth dropped open- he had never seen such luxury just laying around before. Not even the big bosses over in Trenton had this kind of wealth or power. What kind of man could possess the kind of cash required for all this?

He was about to find out. One of the many doors banged open, and a cold chill swept into the room. A rather tall man walked into the room, his long, elaborately decorated, royal blue coat billowing around his knees. His eyes were obscured by the matching fedora he wore at a rakish angle, and from what little Jeremy could see of his face he could tell the man was smiling- no, smirking. He had the look of a man who knew he was about to get exactly what he wanted.

He walked over to the large mahogany desk in the center of the room, and sat down. He patted the edge of the desk closer to the door, in a gesture that obviously invited Jeremy to take a seat in the cushioned chair across from him. Jeremy did so.

“Hello, Mister Jeremiah Heere. Or should I say Officer Jeremiah Heere?” The strange man said, removing his hat and placing it neatly on the desk in one fluid motion.

“Um, hello-” Jeremy choked out, growing more and more uneasy by the minute.

“My name is not important. But I suppose you're wondering how I know yours?” The man locked eyes with Jeremy, the greedy smirk he once had morphing into a faux-polite grin.

“Uh, yeah, how-” Jeremy began to repeat what the man had said to him, but before he could finish his sentence the man held up a finger to silence him.

“All in due time, Jeremiah.” He wiggled the outstretched finger back and forth, and dropped a sly wink to Jeremy. “I think I can guess why you're here- or should I say Heere?” He chuckled softly at his own bad joke. “You want something. And you went to our mutual associate, Mr. Goranski. And he sent you here, because he thinks we might be able to work something out between us.”

“That's-” Jeremy managed to say. “That's a-actually completely c-correct. How did y-you know?”

“I have a way of knowing things.” The man chuckled again.

“Who even are you?” Jeremy said bravely.

“As I said, my name is unimportant.” He paused for a second, contemplating what he was about to say next. “If you feel you must call me something, simply call me the name of my... organization.” He said the next sentence in a careful and deliberate manner, making sure to enunciate every word. “Call me Squip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we not all clear that the Squip is part of the mafia yet


	5. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy talks more with his new friend Squip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: changed my username (from amazinggrace111 to GrayCanKindaWriteStuff) and left my laptop at work- back to typing on my shitty old phone

“Squi- What?” Jeremy repeated, confused.

“What are you, an idiot?” Squip rolled his eyes. “I am no more than a simple cog in a great machine. So just call me the name of the machine.”

Jeremy shook his head. “I don't understand.”

“Just do it, imbecile. It's really not as hard as you're making it out to be.” Squip said, talking to Jeremy as though he were a toddler.

“Than explain it to me. And dont treat me like I'm stupid.” Jeremy shot back, in a rare moment of sass. “What is Squip? Who are you? What are you?”

“We are…” Squip stopped talking for a moment-another rarity- and thought. After a few seconds of silence, he began to speak again. “We improve lives.”

“Really.” Jeremy was skeptical. “And how do you do that?”

“It's rather simple, actually.” Squip chuckled, his grating laugh just bordering on condescending. “Just do whatever we tell you, and for a small fee-or in your case, a favor- and we’ll help you. You'll be at the top of the social charts- making money, making deals, making your father proud.” Squip dropped a wink. “Yes, I know all about old man Heere. I've been watching you for a while now, Jeremiah.”

“...That's… Profoundly creepy.” Jeremy gulped.

“Perhaps a little. But don't you want your life to be better?” Squip said, selling his pitch to Jeremy.

“Who doesn't?” Jeremy laughed bitterly. “But how do I do that?”

“Simple.” Squip grinned maniacally. “You're a smart boy- you've already gotten it all planned out. All we need to do is arrest Jacob Dillinger.”

“But how? I heard it straight from Goranski’s mouth. Dillinger is as innocent as a lamb. How do we turn the innocent guilty!” Now it was Jeremy’s turn to roll his eyes. He was getting annoyed by Squip treating him like he was stupid.

“It's rather easy, really.” The Squip’s grin grew wider and scarier. “We frame him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)work:)is:)kicking:)my:)ass:)


	6. Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Squip pulls a Bill Cypher and makes a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to comicon Boston catch me there

“Frame him?” Jeremy said, understandably shocked. “What the-”

 

“Quite simple.” Squip repeated himself. “The Goranski boy is quite in debt to us. We get him to burn down Dillinger’s house, plant some evidence that frames Jacob for insurance fraud or worse, and then boom, you’ve got all you’ve ever wanted.”

 

“...But isn’t that illegal?” Jeremy said, not quite grasping the concept.

 

“...Yes.” Squip said dryly. “That's the point. Is there a brain in your head or just cotton behind the eyes?”

 

Jeremy was hurt by squip’s words, but he pretended not to be. “Um. Ok.”

 

“Are you in?” Squip smiled slyly. “Come on, Jeremiah. Take a walk on the wild side. Improve your life.”

 

“Wait. Lemme get this straight.” Jeremy pinched the bridge of his nose. “We get Rich to burn down Jake’s, frame Jake, and… That's it? We somehow get profit out of just that?”

 

“Bingo.” Squip nodded.

 

“...Ok.” Jeremy agreed after a minute’s hesitation. “What do I have to do in return? Mind you, I'm more than a little bit financially strapped.”

 

“Understood. In this economy, who isn't?” Squip laughed at his own bad joke. “But no, my organization doesn't want your money. We have more than enough. All we need is a mole. Someone on the inside. Can you be that mole? Do that for us, and the world is your oyster.” Squip stuck out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

 

Jeremy hesitated for another moment. Could he really send an innocent man to prison?

 

Yes. Yes he could. The two hands met in a firm handshake.

 

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so tired my eyeballs are melting FML

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think in the comments below!!!! :0


End file.
